Try as he might to temper his expectations, Castlefield couldn’t hold back the anticipation that surged through his veins as he thought about the night ahead. Tension coiled within him as he paced the length of his bedroom, clad only in trousers and a shirt. He’d removed his cravat and waistcoat and now waited with barely concealed impatience for Ellen’s arrival.
Twelve long years had passed since he realized he no longer saw her as a childhood friend but as a woman about whom he cared a great deal. But that discovery had come too late for him to act on it.
He’d tried to warn her away from Laughton when he realized they were betrothed, but instead of keeping his calm, he’d hurled hateful insults about the man. The revelation of his feelings had left him off-balance, and it hadn’t occurred to him Ellen would be hurt by his words.
He wasn’t proud of his behavior, but he’d been young—just twenty—and unequipped to deal with the stark realization that he couldn’t have everything he wanted. He was heir to a dukedom, and everywhere he went, women cast themselves at him. He’d availed himself of those who were older and more experienced than he, being careful to stay clear of those who wanted marriage. He’d always expected that when he did marry, it would be to someone he liked and respected. He’d never counted on love. The fact that he’d felt the stirrings of that emotion whenever he looked at Ellen that summer long ago had him wanting to howl with rage at the unfairness of the situation.
He accepted that he bore more than a modicum of blame for the estrangement that had grown between them since then. He hadn’t been able to even look at Ellen after she’d wed Laughton. At first it was a relief when she no longer visited his family’s estate in Sussex for the summer, but after what nearly happened to Jane, he couldn’t bear to think about what Ellen might have suffered at that monster’s hands.
He’d allowed her to spread rumors about him without bothering to correct them. In a perverse way he couldn’t even begin to understand, he took a measure of satisfaction in knowing she still thought about him. Although he hadn’t exaggerated when he told Ellen that the lies she’d spread about his lasciviousness had only served to make him popular in certain circles. Circles where the women would never expect or demand a proposal of marriage from a duke.
But now it was time for all that to change. He was no longer the impulsive youth he’d once been. He would have to be patient with Ellen to gain her trust. That she’d even entertained the notion of the two of them being together was more than he’d expected, although he hoped for much more than that. He wanted everything with her. She wasn’t ready for that yet, but if he was patient he might just gain all the things he’d once believed lost to him forever.
He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear the soft knock at the bedroom door. Rolling his shoulders and schooling his features so he wouldn’t scowl if he found a hapless servant on the other side of the door, he crossed the room and opened it.
It wasn’t something a man would readily admit, but his heart threatened to soar right out of his chest when he found Ellen standing in the hallway. She’d changed into her nightdress, but her modesty was preserved by a lavender dressing gown that covered her from the base of her neck to the floor. He didn’t speak, but he imagined his smile spoke volumes as he stepped back and allowed her to enter.
She didn’t hesitate, sailing past him and turning to watch as he closed the door behind her.
He hesitated, torn between not wanting to give Ellen cause to change her mind but also wanting to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted. He wouldn’t put it past Brantford to come strolling into his bedroom just to cause mischief if he knew Ellen was here. But then again, it wasn’t as though a lock would keep him out if that was his intention.
“You can lock it. I’m more than capable of unlocking a door and showing myself out if I wish to leave.”
He could sense her amusement as he turned to do that. When he faced her again, words failed him as he took her in. The blond mass of her hair was unbound, falling well past her shoulders. He had to fight back the urge to thread his fingers through it and lose himself in the kiss he longed to share with her.
She tilted her head, waiting for him to speak, and he had to clear his throat before he could do so. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I’m a woman of my word. If I tell you I’ll be somewhere, then nothing short of an emergency would stop me.”
The hint of steel in her voice told him he’d blundered, but not too badly. She’d have no qualms about brushing past him and walking out if he’d truly angered her.
“Forgive me,” he said, taking great care to clasp his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t reach for her and botch things further by rushing. “It wasn’t so much that I doubted your word but my own worthiness. I know I’m not your favorite person. It seemed almost too much to hope that I could actually have you.”
“You don’t have me.”
“Not yet, no. I’m well aware of that fact. But at least I now have hope that will change one day.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at him for several intense seconds. Castlefield remained silent throughout her perusal. He’d take his cue as to how to behave from what she said next.
“You didn’t seem to have any misgivings when you first approached me, nor on any other occasion since.”
“Oh, I had more than a few doubts,” he said. “But I try not to let them direct my actions. Fortune favors the bold, after all.”
“Indeed,” she said. “Along that vein…”
He watched as she reached for the sash of her dressing gown and untied it. He thought she’d stop there, but when she shrugged out of the garment and allowed it to fall to the floor in a soft puddle of fabric, he thought he’d lose his mind. The nightgown was white and modest in cut, but the light from several candles lit her from behind and he could clearly see the shape of her figure through the thin material. The curve of her hips, normally hidden behind the straight fall of the skirts of current fashion, was clearly outlined for his view, and he wanted nothing more than to take hold of them and draw her closer.
When he dragged his gaze back up to her face, stopping along the way to take in the shape of her breasts, the defiant tilt of her jaw told him exactly what Ellen was doing. It also served as a reminder to rein in his desires. She was trying to be brave and take control of the situation, which meant she was afraid. He needed to get his emotions in check before he found himself on his back again with her fleeing the room.
He glanced at the bed but discarded that location. When he’d originally planned this seduction, he hadn’t realized how close to the edge he’d be. If Ellen joined him in his bed, he wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to keep from claiming her. But their first time together couldn’t be about him. He had to show her he could be an unselfish lover, capable, first and foremost, of bringing her pleasure.
Something deep within roared in displeasure at that thought, but he ignored it. Ellen would only be his on her own terms.
He held out his hand and waited. After several seconds, she placed her hand in his. The air had cooled with the setting of the sun, and given how little she was wearing, he wasn’t surprised to find her skin was cold. He didn’t comment on it, however. He’d soon warm her up.
He turned toward his dressing room.
She hesitated, glancing at the bed and then back at him. “Where are we going?”
“We need a change of scenery.”
He caught a glimpse of relief on her face and silently pledged he would wipe away all her unpleasant memories of hurried, one-sided couplings in her marital bed. But today would not be that day.
“Grab one of those candlesticks, please” he said, nodding toward the one that had served to offer him a tantalizing view of her figure. It held three lit candles. Not nearly enough in his mind, but at least they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark.
He didn’t release her hand as he opened the door to his dressing room, where a chaise longue took up a prominent place in the center of the dark space. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever used it, but now he was glad for its presence. He took the candelabra from Ellen and placed it on a tall set of drawers that rested against one wall. The candles cast a warm glow over the room, at the same time lengthening the shadows. He and Ellen would do this again one day, and he’d make sure to light the room with as many candles and lamps as he could find. But for today he hoped the shadows would allow Ellen a measure of security.
She tugged her hand from his, and with regret he allowed it. To his shock, she bent slightly at the waist and began to drag up her nightgown with her right hand. He was transfixed as he watched each inch of skin appear. When the material passed her right knee, he clenched his hands to keep from reaching out for her. He’d have to stop her soon, however. This wasn’t at all what he’d planned.
A black garter came into view on her right thigh, and he began imagining the skin that lay above it and how smooth it would feel to the touch. He held himself tightly in check as he watched her turn to the left. It was only then that he noticed the sheath strapped to the garter on the outside of her thigh.
His mouth dropped open when she unclasped the sinister strip of fabric and allowed her nightdress to fall back into place. He caught the unmistakable hilt of a dagger sticking out from the garter that had been strapped to her leg seconds before and found himself staring at the weapon for several seconds.
“I’d convinced myself Brantford was in jest about that,” he said when he was finally capable of speech again.
Ellen grinned as she pulled the dagger from its sheath and twirled it with swift, deft movements between her fingers. “My brother never jests about safety.”
She threw the knife, and it landed solidly within the doorframe, embedded several inches deep.
“I didn’t think it was possible to be any more aroused than I already was.”
The words were out before he realized he was saying them aloud. Ellen’s gaze dipped to his trousers and her expression shuttered.
He watched as she straightened her back and turned toward the chaise. If she imagined he was going to have her lie down while he rutted away on top of her, she was sadly mistaken. He reached for her hand again and brought her around to face him.
“I’m not foolish enough to believe you require that dagger to stop me.”
She smiled, no doubt remembering how she’d so easily flipped him onto his back the first time he’d tried to kiss her. “I’m not going to stop you.”
He searched her face for any sign of doubt. “Be absolutely sure about this, Ellen.”
Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and he had to hold back a groan as she whispered, “I am.”